


Christmas with the Nightingales

by ThatClumsyGirl



Series: Downton Abbey/Rivers of London [2]
Category: Downton Abbey, Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Christmas, Family Dynamics, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Period-Typical Homophobia, Secrets, aftermath of war, dealing with grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22215244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatClumsyGirl/pseuds/ThatClumsyGirl
Summary: So, this is the sequel to my ghost-story. I left this loose thread about Nightingale's brother in chapter 4 and decided to pick it up with this. Strictly speaking, it is only RoL-related, Downton is just referenced a few times. None of this is in any way canon (but doesn't contradict canon either, afaik), apart from the fact that Nightignale has six siblings. Like before, this features some wartime-images but nothing too graphic.Thanks again for all the lovely comments and kudos on part 1, hope you enjoy this one as well.
Relationships: post Thomas Nightingale/Archie Boatright
Series: Downton Abbey/Rivers of London [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599127
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Christmas Eve

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the sequel to my ghost-story. I left this loose thread about Nightingale's brother in chapter 4 and decided to pick it up with this. Strictly speaking, it is only RoL-related, Downton is just referenced a few times. None of this is in any way canon (but doesn't contradict canon either, afaik), apart from the fact that Nightignale has six siblings. Like before, this features some wartime-images but nothing too graphic.  
> Thanks again for all the lovely comments and kudos on part 1, hope you enjoy this one as well.

The gale was throwing swathes of rain across the fields and bending the trees into helpless bundles; it was only three o'clock but a grey darkness had already descended over the village where all the Christmas wreaths and garlands hung soggy and bleak. Thomas Nightingale hurried along the road from the station to the bigger house standing alone near the little stream. He passed by illuminated windows behind which mothers and grandmothers were cooking dinner and fathers with their children putting the final decorations up. The odd snippet of music appeared in the noise of the storm. S _ilent night, holy night_ …

The Nightingale residence, in all her Georgian brick glory, stood dark except for a candle in one of the downstairs windows, welcoming the youngest wayward son who had only stopped briefly in London to conclude his latest adventure in the North. Thomas sheltered under the porch – a recent addition – and pulled the bell, full of expectations he could hardly grasp. Did this feel like it used to when he was a boy coming home from school? He did not really know.

He waited, nothing happened. Even a firm knock on the door brought no reaction and the rain was soaking through his overcoat along with the cold into his bones. Finally, he decided to walk along the wall and reach up to knock on the window with the candle burning dimly behind it. A minute later, just as he was about to make his way along the back of the house, the old oak-door inched open and Harris the butler, who seemed about as old as the oak, stood there with a lantern in his hand.

“Hello, Harris. I was beginning to despair out here”, Thomas said, pleasantly surprised to see the familiar little man.

“Good evening, Master Nightingale. And welcome home” He stepped aside to let the freezing traveller in. “I am afraid the generator broke down due to the storm, sir, so we will have to make do”

“As long as there is a fire and some food, I have nothing to complain about” Thomas let the butler carefully take his wet coat and suitcase, then turned around to him, smiling brightly. “How are you, old chap? I was expecting you to be long retired”

“You know me, sir, I like to keep busy. Major Nightingale is kind enough to let me work here even though I am as ancient as the house”

Swift female steps approached and interrupted them. “Tommy! I thought I heard your voice” Thomas was enveloped in one of Margaret's impetuous embraces before he had even had a chance to look at his sister. “We were all half expecting you to cancel again”

“You know I never miss Christmas if I can help it” While that may not be strictly accurate, it was close enough to the truth. Thomas had made up his mind at the eleventh hour to delay his return to India and visit his family after all. But Margaret was probably referring to all the family gatherings he had missed in the last few years because he had usually put his job first. Recent events in a place called Downton Abbey, that would probably still haunt him for a while, had changed his priorities. “Is everyone here already? Is uncle Stanley coming?”, he asked.

“He wasn't sure if he could make it. He's on the continent but you probably know more about it than we do. Everyone else is either in the drawing-room or resting upstairs … It's good to see you, little brother. Come, say hello to the rest of the gang … Harris, now that we're all here, can we have tea? And whatever Mrs. Miller can conjure up by way of snacks?”

“Of course, Mrs. Delbert, we'll do our best” The butler retreated towards the staircase and Margaret pulled Thomas along the corridor.

“Mrs. Miller is also still here?”, he asked. The cook and housekeeper, like Harris, had worked here for as long as he could remember.

“Oh yes. You would know that, if you bothered to stop by once in a while … They've completely modernised everything in the kitchen and, naturally, she thinks it's just awful. I've started to suspect that she broke the generator herself just to teach them a lesson”

“They” were the owners of the house, their eldest brother Arthur and his wife Muriel, the latter being the one who insisted on having all the modern inventions at whatever cost. In the drawing-room, a good old fire was blazing, reminding Thomas of the times when their parents were still alive and no such thing as electricity or radio would have been allowed within a hundred feet of the house. Arthur, looking more and more like their father with advancing age, sat in an armchair close to the fireplace and gave him a nod and a weak smile by way of hello. He was still in the army, had been promoted to Major-General, and worked in administration these days. Even from the first impression Thomas could tell that he was doing worse than the last time he had seen him and had grown older faster than he should. It was about time he talked about everything that had happened in the Great War and Thomas would not leave this house before he had done so.

Across the room, a silent argument was unfolding between his eldest sister Constance and his brother Percy, doubtlessly about the colonial-trade-company most of the family was involved in. Percy, a lawyer like their father, saw himself as the advisor and the voice of reason behind the affair, although he had nothing to do with the actual management of the firm and worked somewhere else. Constance was not interested in the business her late husband Joseph Fairleigh and her brother Frederick had been running together as long as it secured an income for her and her three young daughters. Frederick, absent at the moment, lacked the sincerity to run it all on his own and since Joseph's death three years ago had spent and wasted a lot of money and time on drink, gambling and women. Now, Percy was convinced that Constance, as Joseph's heiress, should take more of an active part and make use of the fact that she was the only person who had any kind of control over Frederick.

“I wish they'd stop fighting for the holidays”, Margaret sighed, “I've had about enough of it lately” Her husband Eugene Delbert, an American, co-owned the shipping company that Fairleigh & Nightingale usually used to transport their goods across the world and had even lent money to Frederick in the past. “I really don't understand what Constance's problem is. She acts like Percy wants her to be managing director of a bank, when all he wants her to do is stop signing off on everything Frederick does without questioning it”

This had been an issue for a long time and Thomas was not really surprised that they still had not solved it. In the Nightingale-family, the deciding elements in a conflict were not arguments or reasons but whoever was most stubborn and held their breath the longest. He wondered if he should refer Constance to the very competent Lady Mary, who co-managed Downton Abbey like she had never done anything else, for some advice.

Margaret continued her tirade against her sister. “And that's literally all she does: goes to the office for an hour every day and signs all the papers Frederick puts under her nose. Eugene has been trying to talk some sense into both of them but it's no use. Ah, here he is now” Seeing her handsome husband stopped her from getting really angry, even though he brought Frederick with him.

Thomas spent the next half hour saying hello to all of his siblings, their spouses and all the children who floated in and out of the room, while drinking tea and eating cake. Some time in-between, a telegram from uncle Stanley was delivered, saying he would not be able to come after all. Thomas wondered where he was and what he was up to; word in the Folly was that he had been sent to Germany on some secret assignment. It would have been so much easier with him there, not only because they could talk about work when all else failed but because Stanley's presence always eased the tension and his advice was appreciated by all.

The afternoon dragged on, only lightened by some carol-singers who had braved the storm and whose voices filled the house with a calm warmth as they sang about the first Noel and the king of angels. It felt in that moment like everything was actually going to be okay. Almost the whole family was here, just like old times; Thomas felt protected and safe in his home as he had when he was a boy, his parents were still alive, and Charlie, before the war took their innocence. He stood in front of the tree in the hall for a while, gazing at his own broken reflection in the old wax-stained baubles and tried to hold on to that feeling for as long as he could.

Margaret finally came to find him and all but ordered him back into the drawing-room where it was warmer. She and Thomas were the only two siblings who had not been to war, he realized as he looked across the room. Arthur was the one who was most obviously affected but surely the others also had memories resurface from time to time that kept them awake at night or plagued them in the most inconvenient moments. But they never talked to each other about it, that much he knew for a fact – a room full of people who would understand and they completely ignored this potential to help each other because they were uncomfortable and repressed when it came to feelings. And perhaps it was one of the reasons why they acted the way they did now. Frederick lived like he was afraid of missing something and could not settle down for any amount of time; Percy was always strict with himself, had a very clear concept of how things should be done and was completely helpless in the face of chaos; Constance avoided dealing with real life as much as she could and would have stopped the progression of time. In fact, apart from her clothes, she only had things from before the war at home and carried an old photograph of herself and Joseph with her whenever she came to stay, it being of their wedding in a French chapel a few miles behind the front-line (she didn't even have a wedding-dress, just her nurse's uniform).

“Tommy?”, Margaret's voice broke him out of his musings, “What is it with you today? I've been talking to you for two minutes”

“I'm sorry, what were you saying?”

“Never mind that. Why don't you tell me what's bothering you?” She made him sit down on the sofa.

“It's nothing. I just thought about old times, you know, when mother and father were here. And Charlie”

Margaret smiled in remembrance. “Oh yes, Charlie loved Christmas. And he would have loved to see all of his nieces and nephews” As if on cue, her three-year-old daughter Jean came over with a book she wanted uncle Tommy to read to her and he very happily complied.

Dinner, which Mrs. Miller had cooked on a little old stove in the servants' hall because the electric one was not working, was as delicious as ever but accompanied by more discussions between Frederick and Percy with Eugene trying to keep the peace. Arthur, the master of the house, let them get on with it and did not seem to have the strength to stop them. The older children, who had been allowed to stay up for dinner, were sent to bed afterwards while the adults indulged in Christmas punch, cigars and finally some conversation about other topics, thanks to the rising level of intoxication.

It was going on midnight when Thomas eventually found himself alone with Arthur, both of them sitting in front of the fire with some Whiskey, the last chords from the record on the old wind-up gramophone fading away. Thomas had been going over this conversation in his head a thousand times but now that it was time to address the subject, he did not know how to start.

“How are you, Tommy?”, Arthur asked out of the blue. His voice was low, like it had lost its substance a long time ago.

“I'm fine …?”, Thomas answered. They had done that part of the reunion hours before.

“No, I mean, really. There's something bothering you. Do you miss your friend who died?”

“I still do. But it's getting better” No-one in the family, not even Margaret, knew how he had really felt about Archie or how he felt about men in general.

“I suppose Christmas must be hard for you, seeing all of us happily married and with our children, and you … It's not right that you should be alone” Or maybe someone did know.

“What are you trying to tell me?”, Thomas asked as steadily as he could, tasting fear and hearing his heartbeat so loudly it drowned out the crackling of the fire.

“I want you to know that it's alright. Everything is alright. It's fine to be … different. I just hope you know what you're doing and you stay out of trouble … I wish I'd told you this years ago”

Thomas was speechless for a minute, thinking back on all the times he had wanted to tell his family about it but had lost his nerve. Archie's death was twice as hard on him because he had had to deal with it all by himself. “It means a lot to hear you say it. Thank you, brother”, he managed eventually, allowing the joy he felt to surge through him. He was no longer alone, Arthur had not abandoned him. In addition to the friend he had found in Downton it was almost too much moral support for him to believe it. “Have you always known?”

“Pretty much, yes. Ever since you brought that boy with you from Casterbrook that one time – it must have been around the start of the war – and it was obvious how much you adored him. A few weeks later you showed up unannounced again and you were devastated but would not tell me why and you never mentioned him again. That's when I knew, and there were other tell-tale signs over the years”

Thomas remembered it well. His infatuation with Alan, a boy slightly older than himself, and how he had finally gathered the courage to kiss him, only for Alan to punch him and call him a freak and make life at school hell afterwards.

“I hope that one day you will find your happy ending” Arthur emptied his glass and got up.

It was now or never. “Wait, please. Here, have another drink. There was something I wanted to talk to you about, something else entirely” Thomas filled both their glasses again.

“What is it? Sounds important” He really looked awfully tired and maybe it would be better to let him go to bed …

“It's about Charlie. About the way he died”

All the life seemed to drain out of Arthur and Thomas wished he could take it back. “Perhaps it's time I told you the truth about it”, the older Nightingale whispered.

“I already know. The man who saw you do it told me everything”

“Corporal Barrow? I always wondered if he had made it through” Arthur set down the glass and put his hands on his knees to hide their shaking. “It must have been quite a revelation for you” He stared into the fire like he was waiting for a blow to the head.

“I don't think worse of you, if that's what you're afraid of. In fact, I think it took great strength of character to do what you did … Have you ever talked about it to anyone?”

Arthur shook his head and his hands clenched in the fabric over his knees. “Never. Not even Muriel or the vicar”

“Would you like to talk about it? To me?” Thomas was half hoping that Arthur would decide to talk to a man of the church or some other professional after all. He was not comfortable in the least with bare emotions but he would sit through this if it helped his brother, because he had to talk to someone, that much was certain.

“I … I don't know what to say. What … If you know what happened, what do you want me to say?”

“Whatever it is that weighs down your mind, dear brother. You're not well and I want to help you get better”

To his great horror, Arthur's striking blue eyes filled with tears and he clasped a hand across his mouth to silence his sobs. Thomas knelt down by the side of his chair and took his free hand in both of his, desperately wishing for Margaret or Muriel to come help him deal with this. It took Arthur a few minutes and an agonising fight for composure until he could pull out his handkerchief and wipe his face. Thomas sat back down in his chair and ignored the urge to give his brother a hug.

“I feel guilty, Tommy. Maybe Charlie would have recovered after all; we will never know, because I fancied myself God and decided that he should die”, Arthur said at last.

“If he was injured so badly that you decided to shoot him, I don't think he would have recovered. And if he had, what kind of life would it have been? Neither of us is a doctor, so we can't know for sure, but do you think he would have thanked you for making him a living corpse? Would it have been better to let him endure his torture a while longer?”

“That's just the point, I don't know … Sometimes, I can't even … I can't look at you, because all I see is Charlie how he was before … Then I close my eyes and I see -”, Arthur's voice broke again but he took a deep breath to steady himself, “You can't imagine what it was like … I recognised him only by his eyes and his necklace; it was the most horrible thing I ever saw. And there was all the devastation around us, too, trenches filled with decomposing bodies, soldiers having their wounds stitched up right there on the battlefield, or praying and calling for their mothers … How is a man supposed to ever forget that?”

“I don't think forgetting is an option. No-one could do that”, Thomas assured him.

“But what about Frederick and Percy or Constance and her husband? They came home, they moved on with their lives”

“Or maybe that's only what they want people to see? Trust me, I'm an expert on concealing parts of myself and I've met other people who have whole secret identities you would never expect when you deal with them” Thomas was still vividly under the impression of the case of May Edison who had hidden so well she became almost invisible.

“Do you think Charlie would have moved on if he had returned in one piece?”

“Maybe. He only ever saw the good in people and the world, he was special that way, but the war took some of that away. It was like his light was dimmed … You're not telling me you blame yourself for his enlistment? He volunteered, like thousands of others, and he didn't do it because you were in the army already” Charlie, Frederick and Constance had gone to the recruitment-office together just a few weeks after the start of the war, along with almost all of their friends. Only Percy had waited to be conscripted.

“No, I see that. But I should have tried harder to discourage him from joining the tank-regiment. I told him it was too dangerous but he was an engineer at heart and could not resist the fascination of these new machines. Then I tried to pull some strings to get him sent home, so he could get married, but it didn't work and … a few days later he was dead” The whole extent of Arthur's unwarranted guilt was finally obvious to Thomas and it was no longer a mystery why he had been dying slowly ever since that day on the battlefield. One detail of his revelations also made it clear how much they had never talked about.

“I didn't know he was planning to get married. I don't think any of us knew”

“Father would have disapproved. Her name was Iris, she was a black singer from the Caribbean, they met in London before the war. He loved her very much, that's all I know” They looked into the fire again for a while, both lost in memories of their brother.

“Still, none of this is your fault”, Thomas said at last, “You've been punishing yourself for years, don't you want that to stop?”

“Yes, I suppose I do”, Arthur whispered softly, “If only I could see a way …” There was something else he wanted to say, so Thomas waited until he was ready. “At times, it is so bad, I don't think I can bear it any longer. I really don't know why I still get up in the morning”

Thomas felt cold despite the fire and a wave of dread pressed the air out of his lungs. Was Arthur really saying these things? “You bear it because your family needs you”, he replied, his heart aching because his brother had felt like this all the time and no-one, absolutely no-one, had done anything about it or even known about it.

“Do they, though? Don't they deserve a father and husband who is more than an empty shell?”

“Arthur”, Thomas whispered and took his hand, barely holding on to the verge of tears, “You can be that man again, I know you can … I believe in you. And I need you, I always will”

Arthur looked up, the pain and guilt turning into some sort of resolution when he saw the tears. “Don't worry, little brother. I will hold on, for you”

“As long as you do. And you can always talk to me, about anything”

They sat for a minute, holding hands and looking at each other solemnly, until their introverted nature got the better of them and they let go and turned away, slightly embarrassed. Arthur emptied his Whiskey and got up. “I'm really glad you came home for Christmas. Good night, Tommy”

“Good night”, Thomas whispered and watched him leave the room, the candle in his hand illuminating his way. Only when he was well out of sight did Thomas allow himself to break down and cry. Arthur, dear Arthur, had thought about ending his life; it was hardly possible to imagine. He had lost Archie this way, he was not going to lose his brother, Thomas vowed to himself. This was his responsibility now, he was not going to let it happen.


	2. Christmas Day

Thomas got up later than he usually would, having spent the night awaking from terrifying dreams about the devastated battlefields of the Great War, about Charlie and his fate, about Arthur ending up like Archie, hanging from his tie in an empty room and about May Edison who had been so lonely her only way out was to let him kill her.

When he came downstairs, all the presents had been opened already and the children were busy with their new toys. Some breakfast had been put by for him and Mrs. Miller brought a fresh pot of tea. It took Thomas a few minutes to realise that the general mood was far from cheerful. Perhaps the argument about the company had finally escalated? Margaret seemed oblivious, though.

“Hurry up, Tommy. We are going to be late for church”, she said.

“Some of us need it more than others”, Constance cut in and looked from Thomas to Arthur with a meaningful gaze. It occurred to him then that maybe it was not the argument and she had heard what had passed between them in the drawing-room last night. He wondered what part she was more upset about.

They left for church before any more could be said about it. The whole village had gathered in the Early Gothic chapel that was decorated with garlands and illuminated by candles. The storm was still raging on but the people inside the church forgot all about it as they listened to the choir sing and the vicar reading the Christmas story. Even Thomas managed to forget about the confrontation that was in all likelihood coming and let the warm festive atmosphere transport him back to when he was a child on his mother's hand, full of wonder and Christmas cheer. The feeling held on until they were back home and he noticed how Constance still looked at him, asking himself where along the way _peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled_ had got lost.

She did not say anything until after luncheon when all the children were out of the way. Frederick and Percy had somehow managed to stop arguing until then but picked up their discussion right where they had left it.

“Can you not stop, just for one day and let us enjoy Christmas”, Arthur, to everyone's surprise, interrupted them. It was the first time in years he had somewhat raised his voice and the whole room fell silent. “I mean it. You can discuss business some other time when it doesn't upset everyone”

“And what makes you think you have the moral high-ground here?”, Constance finally said, having chewed on it all morning.

“What do you mean by that?”, Percy asked, always quick to condemn people for what he considered transgressions.

“I learned some things last night about our virtuous head of the family that I cannot keep to myself” She was gearing up for a dramatic speech, so Thomas decided to take the wind out of her sails and step forward. She probably meant the other thing, but he would distract from that with his own confession. He knew what he was risking, knew he was definitely destroying his chances of another family Christmas, but rescuing the spark of life Arthur had rediscovered was more important. Thomas just prayed that the truth would stay in this room, in the family.

“I suppose that's me you're referring to”, he said and got up just for good measure. His heart was beating on his tongue again and the edges of his vision blurred and sharpened at the same time. “Last night, Arthur made it clear that he has known about a situation I am in for a very long time and that he supports me in this” They all looked at him, some knowingly, some mildly confused and he had to state it outright if he wanted this to work. “I am and have always been a homosexual. And that young man who was here with me last year, Archie Boatright, was my lover. I will not apologize for this. So, if you want to pick on someone for their virtue or morale or whatever you might want to call it, that someone is me” His mind took him back to the conversation he had had with Thomas Barrow in the forest almost two weeks ago and he wondered if Thomas would be proud of him for speaking completely without shame.

“So it is true” Percy was the first to find his voice and there was disgust and reproach in it. “When I first heard rumours in London, I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt because we are brothers but I can see now that I was wrong”

“Well, this explains a lot. I have wondered why you never brought a girlfriend home. I thought you were just shy” Frederick seemed to find it almost funny and gave him an assessing look through the smoke of his cigarette.

Arthur's wife Muriel came over and put a hand on Thomas' shoulder. “My dear, have you been alone with that all the time? … You are very brave to speak up like this” The love and respect Thomas had always felt for his sister-in-law grew beyond measure in that moment. He thanked the heavens that Muriel was a modernist.

“Hello, we are missing the point here”, Percy cut in, “He is breaking one of the fundamental laws of society with his … degenerate lifestyle”

“Would you stop making such a fuss about everything? It's not like he just told us he robbed a bank or something. Just let him love who he loves and get over it” Frederick was on his side as well, Thomas should have known that.

“Of course _you_ would say that. Do you think all of this is just a game?” Constance gave them both a hate-filled look, then pointed at Thomas. “And you. You've always been a freak. I knew even then that sending you to magic-school would only make it worse and I was right. Father should have disinherited you when I told him to” That one hurt, Thomas could not deny it.

“We should report you before we become guilty by association” Percy was serious and Thomas felt panic rise in his heart. He had relied on his siblings' good nature but perhaps that had been a slightly too naïve approach.

“Then you'll have to go through me”, Arthur said and got up; Thomas had never loved his brother more, “I will stand witness for him every time. I would even go so far and tell a court that you are jealous and delusional”

They stared at each other for a minute, then Percy took a step back and looked at Thomas. “If I ever see you so much as talk to another man, I will go straight to the police” He left the room, his wife following close behind.

Thomas turned around to Margaret and Eugene, who had not said anything the whole time. He was not sure if he was expecting their sceptical looks but he had hoped for something different.

“You just had to say it”, Margaret whispered, holding her husband's hand, “I've had my suspicions, but I was willing to ignore them, as long as I never actually saw you do anything against God's will … I can't look at you right now, I need to think” They both walked out, and he thought he heard Eugene whisper an apology in passing.

The others disappeared one by one with various excuses, until only Thomas and Constance were left, “You think you're so clever, but the truth will come out sooner or later”, she said in a poisonous tone.

“Constance, please. I beg you to let it rest, not for me but for Arthur's sake”

“He _killed_ our brother and you're telling me to overlook it? By rights, I should be running to the courthouse” She had always been one to insist on principle, that much she had in common with Percy.

“You were there, remember? You know what the war was like. What Arthur did was a mercy and he has had enough punishment for one lifetime … Come on, he is the most decent guy in the world, you can't seriously want to destroy his life and his family”

She wavered and she knew that he saw it. “I want justice for Charlie, that's all”

“And I want you to have a heart, for Arthur. I'll let you think about that”

Thomas left her on her own and went to his room. It was still the same room he had occupied as a boy, only done up nicely, and he would probably be hiding in there just as he had as a boy when his siblings had been mean to him or he had done something to make their parents angry. He could hardly breathe as he sat down on the bed. What would happen next? Arthur could try but what if he was not able to protect him? And why on earth did it hurt so much that Margaret had all but turned away from him? Constance and Percy he had expected but not her. This was supposed to be a nice family-gathering and an opportunity to help Arthur before Thomas went back abroad, instead his whole life was suddenly hanging in the balance.

There was a knock on the door and Arthur came in. “You didn't have to do that”, he said as he sat down by the desk, “But thank you”

“Of course I had to. And it looks like she might keep your secret to herself, so it was good for something”

“My darling Muriel was right, you are brave” There was so much affection in Arthur's smile, it almost made Thomas tear up again. “Are you alright, though? Constance said some very hurtful things”

“I'll live. But I'm a bit worried what Percy might do” He was unpredictable in his compulsiveness.

“Well, I meant what I said. I'll stand for you, uniform and everything, and then we'll see who has more credibility”

“Thank you” They were silent for a few minutes, each brother lost in his own thoughts. “So, I suppose dinner is cancelled”, Thomas finally said.

“No, actually, it will be served at eight and whoever wants to join us will be very welcome to. I don't have to tell _you_ to behave, because I know you will, and I hope the others will, too … I'll go and rest now, so should you” All this fierce protectiveness had drained his strength.

“I will. Just one more thing: You should consider telling the others how Charlie died. Back there, I didn't want Constance to force your hand; you should only do it if and when you're ready”

“I don't think I ever will be. I'm too afraid of losing them, I'd rather carry this secret”

“Of course, it is your decision”

Arthur looked very tired, so Thomas let him go. It was going to be a long evening and he would be out of here tomorrow as soon as he possibly could without looking like he was running away. All the warmth and security he had felt just twenty-four hours ago had faded away into nothing and left him cold and alone, not recognising his own home for what it was anymore.


	3. Boxing Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was more of an afterthought, inspired by my own family growing on Christmas (in a different way, though) :)

Christmas dinner had been so tense, Thomas could hardly eat anything. The next morning, he listened to the house for a while and made sure that at least some of his siblings had finished breakfast and returned to their rooms before he went down. He had just managed to have a cup of tea and some toast without interference when Constance and Margaret walked back in. The three of them looked at each other like they had just been caught with their trousers down. Before anything unpleasant could happen, there was a knock on the front-door. Harris or the footman could not possibly have heard it, so Thomas got up to answer it. Just as he was about to open the door, Arthur and his oldest son George came downstairs.

“Is that the man who will fix the generator? He said he'd come no earlier than tomorrow”, Arthur said.

Thomas opened the door and did not find what he was expecting. Instead of an electrician, there was a tall, dark-skinned man about his own age and a boy who seemed to be thirteen or fourteen. Both were dressed neatly in their Sunday-best, had tried to straighten their black curly hair and were nervously clutching their hats.

“Good morning. Can I help you?” Thomas forgot about everything else for a moment and wondered what this was about. Who would come to the middle of nowhere on a day like this?

“Yes, hello. We are looking for a Mr. Nightingale”, the stranger said in a pleasant voice with an undeniable South-London-accent.

“Which one exactly? I am Thomas Nightingale”

“Any would do” The man smiled in a way that lit up his whole presence and Thomas realised how attractive he was. Somehow, that just added to the mystery.

Before he could say anything else, Arthur stepped forward. “I am Arthur Nightingale, this is my house, so you should probably do business with me”

“No business, sir. My name is Sidney Baptiste. My older sister Iris, the mother of this young boy, knew your brother Charlie”

“Please, step inside”, Arthur said, having lost all colour and shaking only so much that Thomas could detect it.

They came in and looked around the hall, the boy full of wide-eyed curiosity. He had probably never left London before. As he looked at him more closely, Thomas knew instantly what this was about; he would know those alert grey eyes everywhere.

“Well, I won't beat around the bush”, Mr. Baptiste said, “This is your brother's son, Charlie junior. Unfortunately, his father died before he was born”

“Pleased to meet you, sir” The boy timidly shook Arthur's hand, then Thomas'. “How do you do”, he mumbled and could not stop looking at him. It occurred to Thomas that he must have seen pictures of his alleged father.

“Presumably, you have proof of this?”, Constance said from behind them. She and Margaret had come into the hall to see what the hold-up was.

“Yes, madam. I have it all right here” Mr. Baptiste seemed unfazed by her more than suspicious look and the cutting edge in her voice as he held up his old battered briefcase.

“Why don't you come into the drawing-room so we can look at it”, Arthur said, then turned to his son, “George, please take Charlie here along to where the other children are. Maybe you could show him some of the card-tricks your uncle Frederick taught you”

The two boys looked at each other, then walked away together, instantly bonded by a sense of family-recognition. The adults stepped into the other room where someone had very thoughtfully laid out some cups and a pot of tea. The rest of the proper introductions were made and then Mr. Baptiste produced his evidence, consisting of a birth-certificate, some photographs and a stack of letters mostly written on army stationery in Charlie's tiny chicken-scratch handwriting.

“I have seen this photo before”, Arthur said and tapped on one of Charlie and Iris together in front of the Albert Memorial. He was pointedly avoiding the one of Charlie in uniform and the letters.

“Did you ever meet him?”, Thomas asked. It was painful in a way to think that Charlie had this secret “second family”, but it was also reassuring that he had found happiness to come home to from the horrors of war.

Mr. Baptiste nodded. “Many times. He came to visit whenever he could. And, I must say, when you opened that door earlier, I thought I was seeing a ghost”

“None of this proves anything”, Constance interrupted, “So, he did know your sister, that doesn't have to mean he's the father of that child”

Mr. Baptiste gracefully ignored the implication of an insult. “I never really read all of these letters, out of respect for my sister's privacy, but I did read the last one and he knew about the baby”

“That's why he was in such a rush to marry her”, Arthur said, “I tried to get him sent home but it didn't work out”

“You knew about this? You knew and you never said a word” Margaret was absolutely appalled.

“I knew that he had a fiancée in London and that he thought father would disapprove of her … Charlie was dead, what did it matter?” Arthur's voice cracked a little.

Constance drew breath to say what she had wanted to say since the day before, but a warning look from Thomas stopped her. “You're right, father would have disapproved”, she mumbled instead.

“Miss Baptiste must have been a very honest woman”, Thomas said, “Most people in her position would have tried to find another man to marry and to make him out as the boy's father. She even wrote Charlie's name on the birth-certificate”

“She was the most honest person I know. Also, being a singer, most people expected her not to have a spotless past anyway, so having a child but no husband didn't completely ruin her life … And we didn't know what had happened to Charlie at that time. When Iris couldn't reach him, she thought nothing of it at first. Of course she worried but these things happened in wartime, people went missing for a few days. But days became weeks and when she inquired after him, no-one told her anything. It took six months until we found out that he was dead. Little Charlie had been born by then, so even if she had wanted to marry someone else to legitimize him, it was too late”, Mr. Baptiste explained, “Iris could never have done that, though. In fact, she never married. Your brother was the only man for her” There was a brief pause as they all remembered him.

Margaret was the first to find her voice. “Why now? What do you want from us now, on Christmas?”

“I made Iris a promise that I would let her tell the boy about his father when she thought it was the right time and that I would never contact you without her permission. I don't know why this was so important to her, but I kept that promise. Now, Iris passed away five weeks ago and I thought it my duty to introduce him to the family he still has left, so if anything ever happened to me he would not be completely alone, like Iris and I were alone after our parents died on the Titanic. Christmas seemed appropriate”

“Of course it is”, Thomas said, “And we are very sorry for your loss and that we will never have the chance to meet your sister”

Mr. Baptiste gave him a nod and a little notion of a smile, then he turned serious again. “I want nothing from you, just for young Charlie to know where he comes from. And let me make it clear that I don't want any money. We may not have a house like this one but we have enough for our taste; I am a baker by trade and run a business with two partners, I can take good care of him”

“I don't doubt that”, Arthur said, “And I don't doubt any part of your story. Just one look at the boy would suffice to know who his father was … You two are welcome in this house any time. In fact, why don't you stay for a bit, meet the rest of the family”

“Thank you, sir. We can stay for an hour or two but then we'll have to head back. I promised my business-partner I would look after his children this evening”

Arthur and the two sisters left the room to round up the rest of the family. “I'm going back to London later, we should catch the same train”, Thomas said although he did not know why.

“That would be very nice, Mr. Nightingale” The smile he gave Thomas was somewhat mischievous and promising in a way he did not want to think about now.

“I think you can call me Thomas, if we're going to be a family. Also, calling all of us Mr. Nightingale could get confusing”

“Very nice to meet you, Thomas. I'm Sidney” They shook hands a little too long, Sidney's dark eyes taking in every detail of Thomas' face, until someone came in and Thomas let go like he had been burned. It was a good thing, too, because that someone was Percy.

Thomas excused himself because he had to find Arthur and have a private word with him before they might run out of time later. He found his brother in the corridor where the guest-rooms were, sitting on a chair and catching his breath.

“That was unexpected, wasn't it?”, he said with a tired smile.

“It was, but in a good way. Listen, we shouldn't leave the poor man alone downstairs with the others too long, I just want a quick word with you” They stepped into the nearest empty room so they would not be overheard. “I'll be going back to India now”, Thomas continued, “I'll try to be back as soon as I can, but as long as I am away, promise me you won't … do anything stupid”

“I promise. Really, I do” Arthur looked uncomfortable but he just had to sit through this.

“And when it gets too bad, I want you to talk to someone. Don't tell them the story if you don't want to, but just tell someone that you're not doing well”

“I'll do my best … Thank you for your help, Tommy” The way he struggled to say it told Thomas that he actually meant it.

“One more thing. Here is Corporal Barrow's address, in case you ever feel like contacting him. Don't worry, he's sensitive enough not to start talking about Charlie … Right, let's go down and free Mr. Baptiste from the clutches of our sisters”

When they came into the drawing-room, Sidney and young Charlie were the centre of attention, as is to be expected. Both seemed to handle it well, even the slightly hostile looks from some people. Thomas was not surprised to find that he loved the child already; the boy had more from Charlie than just his eyes, he had inherited his positive nature and his warmth. Or perhaps he got that from his uncle Sidney. It was funny how a family could just grow from one day to the next, change and develop so much that Thomas did not even recognize it as the one he had thought of two days ago when he arrived. Everything was different now, for better or worse.

Thomas was glad that this year was over and glad that he could escape for a few months. His capacity for emotion had been exhausted by this visit and the weeks before that in Downton. And when he did come back, helping Arthur would be taking up all of his resources. But maybe, just maybe, he would find the strength to get in touch with Sidney, this beautiful man standing across from him as a stranger now, and finally be able to respond to his smile.


End file.
